


To Teacup, From Hellbeast

by the9muses



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: And some alcohol, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bobbi needs some sleep, F/M, HuntingBird, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mack is a good friend but Bobbi is a good liar, Natasha Romanoff is a good friend and a better liar, Post-Divorce, and a vacation, pretty sure Bobbi is depressed, this is angst my children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26019169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the9muses/pseuds/the9muses
Summary: A collection of letters Bobbi writes to Hunter after their divorce. It's not like she wants to-her S.H.I.E.L.D issued therapist is making her.
Relationships: past Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse - Relationship
Comments: 22
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on the slowest device I own way too early in the morning instead of sleeping because I got hit with some serious feels so be prepared

Hey Hunter.  
So. It's been six weeks. I went on a mission, and it was traumatizing enough that S.H.I.E.L.D gave me a therapist. I didn't want to talk about the mission, so instead I vented about you, because I have no problems talking about how annoying you are to a total stranger. But talking about you turned out to be a huge mistake because now she's convinced I'm still hung up on you and is making me write this. Not that you're ever going to see it. There is no way in hell I'm ever sending this to you. Or talking to you ever again, for that matter.

I shouldn't have ever introduced you to Izzy. I haven't talked to her since the divorce. But I bet you have. Not only did I lose you, I'm going to lose Hartley. At least I have Mack. Maybe. I'll really have him once he stops looking at me like I'm someone to be pitied. I'm not. All I did was get divorced. I don't miss you. 

That's the lie I've been telling everyone. No one (except maybe Nat and Mack) have seen past it yet. I'm an exellent liar, as you were always so quick to point out whenever we fought. Because the truth is, I do miss you. I even miss our fights, in some sick, twisted way. I miss you because you were there. When I was half dead, when I was sick, when I woke up from a nightmare, when I'd just watched one of my friends murdered in cold blood. The times when I could forget about the argument of the day and your nonexistant folding skills, and just be with you. I miss you because now there's no one to hold me and tell me everything is going to be alright. There's no one, and I don't know how to live like this anymore. I used to, but you took that away from me when you kissed me for the first time.

Remember that time you told me that S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't a life, only a job? Well, it was my life before you showed up, and it is again now. 

Excuse the last few paragraphs. It's late, I'm tired, and I think I might be crying. 

I don't have anything more to say to you.

-Bobbi


	2. Chapter 2

Hey Hunter.  
So you know how I said I have nothing to say to you? Well it turns out that was a fucking lie. I have so many things to say it's not even funny. But I don't know how to say them, so I'm not going to.

I don't even have to write this letter. No one is forcing me to. But it's three AM and I can't stop thinking about you, so here's another letter you aren't going to read.

I only ever lied to you once when we were together, Hunter. When I told you I couldn't wait to get you out of my life. Sure, there were times I couldn't tell you everything, didn't want to give you the whole story, and before we started dating I lied to you a whole lot, but while we were together I never outright lied to you until I said that. You wouldn't believe me, though, if I actully told you any of this. Your favorite hobby seems-well, seemed- to be accusing me of lying about even the most trivial things. Just because I can lie doesn't mean I want to. I lie to survive, I lie to save lives, hell, I lie for money, I don't lie to win a fucking argument. But you never understood that. You never will. It's too late for that now. It was always too late, Hunter, we were doomed from the start. But both of us were too blind and stupid and in love to notice. And now I'm paying for it.

Maybe writing this will help me to stop thinking about you. Maybe I'll stop dreaming about little kids murdered in their sleep by people they're supposed to trust and actually sleep the whole night through. Maybe Mack will stop looking at me with so much pity in his eyes. Maybe I'll be able to stop pretending and stop writing these pathetic letters. Maybe Nat will stop looking so concerned. Maybe Izzy will call me. Maybe the sun will turn purple. Maybe the earth will explode. Maybe I'm innocent, maybe I've never killed someone who didn't need to die. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and discover that the past 7 years of my life were all just an intricately plotted nightmare. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It's never going to be anything more than maybe.  
-Bobbi  
P.S: It's 7 AM now and I'm still thinking about you. God, I need a break. Or a drink. A drink will probably be easier to get. Though Mack did forbid me from drinking alcohol before lunch. Whatever. Desperate times.


	3. Chapter 3

Hunter.  
Good news. I finally convinced Mack that I'm over you. I hate lying to him, but I don't want him to see how pathetic I am. I gave up on convincing Natasha, though. She can see past any lie. That's why I've been avoiding her recently. God, everything is spinning out of control right now. I haven't seen you, haven't seen Izzy, haven't talked to Natasha for at least a few days, and I'm constantly lying to the one friend I'm still spending time with. And to add to that, my heart is still completely shattered and doesn't seem to be attempting to put itself back together. I've broken up with boyfriends before, and that felt pretty bad, but we were married. We were supposed to last, till death do us part and all that. Guess that was just another lie out of the millions I've told. 

You've probably moved on by now. It's easier for you. You work for whoever will pay you the most and then you walk away. No strings attached, no people you need to worry about, no one who might show up in the middle of the night with a gunshot wound needing your help. Guess I ruined that for you. And there's another reason for you to hate me. Not that you need another reason. You probably already have a miles long list of reasons you hate me, ready to go whenever someone asks you about your love life. I'll be a good story to tell. Your horrible, she-devil ex wife who lied constantly and always put her job in front of her husband. Bonus points if you bring me up randomly during coversations just so everyone knows how awful I am and how glad you were to get rid of me. 

I've been feeling way too emotional lately. Mostly angry, to be honest. I find myself snapping at anyone who looks at me and lashing out at the poor people who attempt to start a conversation with me. But what scares me about this is that it feels good. I've never been great at handling emotions. It's easier to just push them away and forget about it. But that totally and completely healthy strategy has been getting harder and harder. I have years worth of anger and guilt and terror and grief stored away, and it's started to bubble up at the most inconvenient times. Sooner or later I'm just going to explode. Either that or I actually get over you. Exploding will probably be easier. 

Someday, maybe, I'll move on. I'll stop accidentally signing my name as Bobbi Hunter-Morse when I'm not thinking. I'll stop searching for you everywhere, and I'll stop seeing you everywhere. I'll find someone else. Or, and this is quite possible given my line of work, I'll die. 

I think I've been more emotional in these past 8 weeks than I have in my entire life. Except possibly when I was a teenager. Those were dark times. 

I really need to stop writing these letters. 

-Bobbi 


	4. Chapter 4

Hunter,

It's been a while since I last wrote. I was feeling a little happier than usual and I didn't want to think about you. But that didn't last nearly as long as I would have liked, so here I am, writing yet another letter you'll never read. Another letter I don't have to be writing. 

I went on a mission with Agents Grace and Ramirez. It was hell. The two of them are so sweet it's ridiculous. They've been together sice the dawn of time and married six years and they still act like lovestruck teenagers. They're everything we weren't, really. They trust each other completely, they work together perfectly, they argue but forget about it in 10 minutes. They both work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. At the end of the mission I went home and I sat in the middle of the apartment that used to be ours, and I replayed that night over and over in my head. That night when we finally broke. I can so easily picture that look on your face when I threw my ring at you, that combination of pain and anger and relief. That face that made me realize just how wrong we were. I remember Izzy calling me at least twenty times. I remember ignoring her. I remember driving to Mack's apartment. I remember crying. I remember spending the next few weeks feeling hollow and numb. But what I can't seem to remember is why we were arguing in the first place. I remember what it came to, the same old accusations and insults, but I can't remember why we started. It was something petty, I'm sure, because wasn't it always? A thousand little annoyances that turned into screaming and always ended in one of us storming off. Definitely not the healthiest way to resolve conflict. 

According to google it's perfectly normal to have trouble moving on with your life after a divorce. Apparently it can even take years to accept the fact that your marriage is dead. So I'm perfectly normal. Except I finally realized something after watching Ramirez and Grace. It's not that I'm hving trouble moving on, or getting over you. I'm still in love with you. And I don't know how it took me so long to notice. I need to get better at identifying emotions. 

I swear that this is the last letter. 

Love, 

Bobbi


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have done literally no editing for these and I'm scared to go back and read it all.

Hunter,

I know I said I was done writing. And I thought I was, for a while. I even started to move on, once I'd figured out why I wasn't. I cut my hair and I stopped avoiding Nat and I actually slept for eight full hours once. I was doing better then I have in a long time. But then I saw you and everything went to hell, once again. 

I was sitting in that little coffee shop we used to go to together all the time, on the phone with Maria Hill, and my day was normal. And then I looked up from what I was doodling and there you were, sitting across the room with a woman I'd never seen before. You looked good. You looked happy. And it hurt. It hurt so much more than I'd expected it to. It hurt because life is so unfair. You get to laugh and smile and be happy, while I don't sleep, and don't laugh and don't stop thinking about you. It's unfair because I'm the one who cries at 3 AM and writes letters you'll never see, amd you're the one with a pretty new girlfriend. A girlfriend who looked to be the exact opposite of me. Short and dark haired and laughing, listening to everything you say. She looked like everything I can't be. And I hated her. God, I hated her. The two of you looked so right for each other. It was like the universe was playing a joke on me. Just when I'd thought things might get better, there you were. So I left. Walked out of that place. I'm not planning on going back anytime soon, either. Too risky. 

So that's the reason I'm awake too early in the morning writing this. And I know I've said this before, but this is the last letter. This time I'm serious. No more of these pathetic letters. I want to stop thinking about you. I want to stop loving you. All it's ever gotten me is pain and anger and grief. So I'm done. I can't do this anymore. 

Don't die out there, alright? 

-Bobbi


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I meant for the chapter before this one to be the last but then my inner muse screamed at me at 2 AM so here's the actual last chapter  
> Grammarly did say that the delivery was slightly off but fuck Grammarly, let's do this

  
Dear Bob,  
I promise I wasn’t looking for these. They were just sitting on your bedside table, and they were addressed to me. So I read them. I swear I would have asked you if you were awake, but since you aren't, I couldn’t. Sorry, love.

I couldn’t believe what I was reading at first. You’re a bloody brilliant liar, Bob. I thought you’d moved on the minute the papers were signed, maybe even before. I never expected anything like this. I never thought you cared this much. Just like you never expected me to care. Guess we both need to work on our expectations. ~~If~~ When you wake up, we're going to have some stuff to talk about. Approximately 3 and a half years worth of stuff.

Like that bullet. It was meant for me, and you're an idiot. Now you're going to have to look scary and fight people with only one and a half lungs. And you won't be able to go back in the field for months. That is not a conversation I want to have. Thank god Simmons volunteered to do it.

I'm sitting next to you, y'know. You look a whole lot more peaceful than you normally do. You don't look like you're about to murder someone, which is a nice change. But you're also covered in bruises and have various machines keeping you alive, so there's a definite downside to this situation.

I'm going to kill Grant Ward, by the way. You can help me, once you're back in the field. That son of a bitch has got it coming, after what he did to you. And did you know he dropped Fitz and Simmons out of an aeroplane? Maybe I should ask them to help. They've certainly got a score to settle. Along with half the people on the base. Including Melinda May. It's a wonder he's lasted this long, really. Most people who get on Agent May's bad side are dead within an hour or just mysteriously disappear after a little while. 

I keep forgetting the real reason I'm writing this letter. Because there's something I need to say. First of all, I forgive you. I'll forgive you a million times if it means you'll wake up soon. If it means you'll be okay. 

And the second thing that I want to say is that I love you. Always have. Bit of a problem, really, considering how many messes it's got me into, but it's worth it. You're worth it. I don't know how you feel, but considering you did take a bullet for me, the odds seem to be in my favour. Or not. You'd jump in front of a bullet for a stranger. And I admire that about you, but it can be a bit confusing at times.   
Please wake up, Bob. I've got too much to say to you for you not to. I'll even admit that I'm a Hufflepuff if you do. Not that I am. But if it'll get you to wake up, I'll do anything. 

I'm tired. I should probably get some sleep.   
Love,  
Hunter

P.S. For the record, that woman I was at the coffee shop with? She broke up with me because apparently I was "too hung up over my ex" (her words, not mine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written from Hunter's POV before, so this took a really long time to write, and I'm still not sure if I did it right, but I did get it done! (someone pls tell me I did it right) Yay!!! I actually finished a fic! I'm going to go and sleep now. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, even if it's been a long time since I posted this, feel free to comment and leave kudos if you like. I won't care :)


End file.
